


Don't Take My Sunshine Away

by LadyCleganeofTheNorth



Series: His Sunshine [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Disasters, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Natural Disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 14:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCleganeofTheNorth/pseuds/LadyCleganeofTheNorth
Summary: The aftermath of a hurricane and flooding in King's Landing.





	Don't Take My Sunshine Away

**Author's Note:**

> So, here is a follow up to You Are My Sunshine. I highly recommend giving that one a read before reading this one. I didn't want to make it a second chapter because I think You Are My Sunshine really should stand on its own.
> 
> I don't know how to make a connected series here yet so my apologies for not having the other fic easily reachable.
> 
> Let me know what you think. :-)

 

 

 

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Sandor sat in the uncomfortable, vinyl-covered chair listening to the sounds from Sansa’s monitors and the ventilator making sure she was receiving enough oxygen.

He stared down at his bandaged right hand and the lacerations that had been stitched closed up and down his forearm. Under the dim lights of Sansa’s hospital room, were it not for the throbbing pain emanating from his hand, he could almost pretend they weren’t there. But they were; a painful reminder of just how close he had come to losing everything.

Looking over at Sansa’s unconscious form, unmoving save for the rise and fall of her chest, Sandor recalled that horrific day from just a week ago.

That day conjured up feelings of panic and regret.

Sandor still struggled to wrap his mind around how quickly the waters of the Blackwater Rush had risen after the storm. In his years living through the notorious hurricane seasons of King’s Landing, never had he seen the water so high as to nearly submerge an entire two story entire house.

He didn’t know what had prompted him to sing to Sansa as they awaited the inevitable; had even less of an idea how they began to dance.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Sandor let out a long sigh. There had been no change in Sansa’s condition since she had been brought to her room. According to the doctors she, thankfully, had brain activity but they had no answer for when, or if, she would wake up.

Turning over his bandaged hand, Sandor recalled how he had somehow gotten them over to the bedroom window and he could see that the rains had subsided even as the water was continuing to rise. A lifetime of experience told him that it would not be long before the Westeros National Guard had helicopters out to survey the damage and search for stranded survivors.

He had to get them out of the house.

Sansa had become submerged first; no surprise given she was head and shoulders shorter than him. In his mind, he could still see her struggling and panicking as she fought, futilely, to keep her head above water; practically climbing him. He was filled with guilt that he had been unable to do more to keep her above water but he knew if he hadn’t acted, and acted quickly, they would have no chance to escape the watery grave that their home was rapidly becoming.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Sandor growled at the incessant monitors, “Gods damn it, _I know_. I told her we would be okay, and here we fucking are. I lied to her; I failed her,” he berated himself, knowing he sat in a room devoid of anyone who to listen or even care.

Sandor had managed to keep a tight hold to Sansa with his left hand as he punched the glass out of the window frame, lacerating his hand and severing several tendons in the process. The water levels were high enough by then that he had to swim them through the shattered window.

His right hand was practically useless by the time they were out of the house but they were now floating at a height nearly level with the eaves of the house and he had somehow managed to drag them both out of the water and onto the roof.

Against all probability, a National Guard helicopter had been flying on a course to pass over them at such low altitude, Sandor could not imagine that the crew would not be able to see them. He looked down at Sansa, torn between attempting to start CPR, her lungs surely having taken in water, and signaling toward the chopper.

He began to frantically wave his arms at the approaching aircraft, blood pouring from his wounds all the while. As the chopper passed overhead he could see the side door open and a Guardsman waving back and giving him a thumbs up.

_He had done it_ , he thought, as he dropped to his knees next to Sansa who had begun coughing reflexively on her own. He grabbed her in his bloodied arms and sobbed into her wet hair, while the helicopter circled around to prepare for their evacuation.

They had been taken in different directions once they arrived at King’s Landing General Hospital; he had been taken into surgery to repair the damage to his hand and Sansa, he supposed, had been taken to wherever it is they take people who drown.

Only she hadn’t drowned.

Now here they sat alone in a hospital room as her body tried to repair itself and recover. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and hold her tight against his chest but there were just too many tubes.

The doctors had told him to talk to her but he didn’t know what else to say other than “I’m sorry.” He had apologized so many times over the last week that he had run out of different ways to tell her.

His actions weren’t registering in his head until he heard the legs of his chair scrape across the linoleum floor as he rose and pulled it closer to her bed. He took her small hand gently in both of his and did the only thing he could think of; Sandor began to sing.

“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping I dreamt I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken so I hung my head and I cried.”

Sandor wiped the tears that had begun to stream down his cheeks with one hand, torn between feeling wrong about singing her the same song he had sung as they waited for death to come and knowing that she was indeed, the sunshine in his life.

Having given up on trying to keep the tears from falling, he again took her hand in both of his and continued his song.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshi--”

Sandor suddenly gasped as he felt her small hand tighten and grip his own.

_Could that be possible?_

_Had she grabbed his hand?_

_Was he imagining it?_

_Was she waking up?_

“Please don’t take my sunshine away,” he finished the last line of the song and the grip she had on his hand didn't let up. He looked up to her face and watched as her eyes fluttered open and relief washed over him.

Just as quickly, it left him, as her blue eyes focused briefly on his face and began to dart around the unfamiliar room, clearly panicking. With her free hand she began attempting to claw at tube that was down her throat. Sandor caught her free hand in one of his and tried to calm her down while he hit the call button to summon a nurse.

“Hush, Little Bird. Relax. You’re in the hospital,” he explained. “You’ve been here for a week.”

She looked him in the eyes then, blue meeting grey, and stopped struggling against his strong but gentle grip.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, “I love you, Little Bird,” he whispered, as Sansa’s nurse came rushing in.

 

 


End file.
